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Keeping my attention on where I washed, I glowered at her shoulders, arms, wrists, and hands. My soapy fingers covered her in fragrant bubbles.
The cuts I’d given her a few days ago had healed nicely, slowly fading my autograph.
Was it wrong to hope those little slices would scar?
A permanent reminder that she belonged to me?
“Henri…I’m fine. You don’t need—”
“I have to,” I growled. “Just…let me, okay?”
Sighing, she nodded.
Her permission waked around me as I bathed her, scrutinised her, and kept my touch as detached as possible.
Her right arm was intact.
Good.
I turned to her left and repeated the inspection. Rinsing away green smudges, I glared at a couple of small scratches. A faint bruise on her elbow. A wince as I massaged her hand.
“That hurt?” I asked.
Her back tensed. “I hit Larry. I-I think something cracked.”
“You hit him?”
Not looking up, she just huffed. “Fat lot of good it did.”
My awe of her tumbled over. “You’re far too brave, little nightmare.”
“Not nearly brave enough,” she whispered back.
Silence fell.
Letting her hand go, I slid my fingers to her shoulders and down her front. She flinched as I rubbed my thumbs over her nipples and caressed her full breasts.
Her eyes snapped closed. She stayed stiff and unyielding.
My heart thudded as I dropped my touch lower.
With gritted teeth, I washed between her legs.
“How close did he get?” I grunted at how soft she was, so delicate.
Her eyes flew wide. Her cheeks flushed, but she held my stare. “He…he breached a little but didn’t get any further.”
He was inside her…
Even a fraction.
Fuck!
Black-hot fury tore through me all over again.
How fucking dare he.
How fucking dare he touch her…hurt her.
I lost myself as I inserted a finger, desperate to eradicate him from her mind and memory. I struggled to stay human. “D-Did he hurt you…past the obvious?”
Temper flashed in her sunshine eyes; anger I wasn’t prepared for. “No more than you.”
I winced. Couldn’t help it. The scorn and condemnation in her gaze arrowed directly into my heart. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” she said coldly. “If you were, you’d realise what you do to me. How you make me feel. How cruel you are even when you think you’re being kind.”
“Cruel?” I choked. I kept stroking, trying to remove as much of that bastard’s imprint as possible. “I-I saved you.”
I didn’t think about the sexual implications. Didn’t demand anything of her. This was clinical. Medical. Unemotional.
Unemotional?
Fuck.
I burned alive with emotion.
She jolted as I continued touching her, then looked away. “Yes, you did save me. And for that, I owe you a thank-you.”
It felt as if my blood caught fire.
The creature within me wanted to do a thousand things to deserve another thank-you. To give her a million reasons to be grateful. To be worthy of her praise.
He almost stole her from me.
My finger hooked against my control.
Rip-roaring fury blazed as the mental image of that bastard on top of her exploded in my mind. Slaughterous contempt made my hand plunge deeper, driven by a mania I couldn’t stop.
Twisted jealousy.
Rancid loathing.
Tangled self-disgust.
I wanted to beg for her forgiveness and roar at her for putting herself in danger.
I couldn’t handle the unravelling of my sanity.
One finger became two.
She swayed on the spot, her stomach flexing. “Henri…stop. What are you—”
“I need him out of you. I need you to be okay.”
“I’m fine.” She sniffed, pushing at my trembling form. “You stopped him. He didn’t—”
“He had you on your back.”
“And you threw him off me before—”
“He should never have gotten that close to you.”
Yanking at my wrist, she withdrew my fingers and glared. “Yes, well, that part is your fault.”
“My fault?”
She shook her head with age-worn weariness. “You stole me, remember? You brought me here. You’re the reason I’ve been molested by two men when—”
“Hang on.” I frowned. “Two?”
She shrugged. “Do you honestly think I would’ve slept with you if you hadn’t tricked me into playing along with you? Are you so corrupted by this place to believe I sleep with you by choice?” Her beautiful face turned nasty. “It was my choice to submit to that bastard Daxton tonight—not because I wanted him but because I wanted to stay alive. They were going to kill us. Me and Peter. And I made the choice. An unbearable choice. But I made it because I didn’t have any other! And you know what? I’ll probably have to make a similar choice in the future because you can’t be everywhere at once, and one day, you won’t be in time. One day, one of those bastards will hurt me, and I fucking refuse to let them break me.”
She scoffed and laughed caustically. “And besides, you and I both know that eventually, Victor will ask for his turn, and then what will you do? Rip off his cock like you did Daxton?”
“Yes.”
“You do, and he’ll kill you.”
